of doves and dragons
by melitse
Summary: daenerys targaryen lives in robert baratheon's castle as a prisoner - bitter, sad, and nearly broken. then the starks come to the red keep, and against all odds, daenerys finds herself connecting with the lord's northern daughter, sansa. as the two girls learn more about themselves and each other, intrigue and betrayal run abound. au, eventual sansa/daenerys


**hi! a few things:**

 **1) sansa is aged up in this fic - her and dany are sixteen**

 **2) i have no idea where this is going lol, im just kinda making it up as i go along**

 **enjoy!**

 _chapter 1_

sansa grows up in the north, far from the king's landing, but she still hears stories of the dragon princess who lives beneath the castle.

it's transformed into more a legend than anything, really. she's heard it uttered numerous times since she was a child, and each time, the tale seems to grow more fantastic and more horrific.

the first rendition she hears and remembers is from jeyne. they are inside on a rainy day, playing with their dolls and swapping the kind of silly stories that only exist within the minds of the young and innocent.

sansa doesn't remember exactly how they stumble across the topic. one moment, they are giggling over prince joffrey -

 _do you think we'll get to meet him one day, sansa?_

 _oh, of course! and i bet he's so handsome!_

 _-_ and the next, jeyne is talking about the princess, saying, "i hear she sleeps in the dungeon at night, and they only feed her once every three days, and she's nothing but skin and bones."

sansa shivers at the thought. the targaryen princess may have traitor's blood, but the idea of being locked up in a dank, dark dungeon for years on end? it seems a bit harsh to her.

she says so, and jeyne nods. "i suppose it's a bit cruel. but she _is_ a targaryen, and honestly, she's lucky to even be alive."

sansa murmurs her agreement. everybody knows the story of the mad king. they know the story of king robert and her lord father, who waged war against him after crimes were committed against both of their families.

they know the story of the other targaryens. the ones who weren't so lucky.

sansa vividly remembers hearing that tale for the first time, remembers the way she'd choked down bile after listening to theon greyjoy speak of the children, and of the mountain, and they way they had died. the mad king's daughter, a baby girl, was meant to be smuggled across the sea with her brother, viserys. but robert caught wind of the plan and it was easily put to a stop. viserys had been killed immediately, but sansa's lord father had somehow convinced robert to let the baby girl live. "she could be of use to you someday," he'd said, supposedly. "the last living targaryen - you could build a powerful alliance with a name like that."

and since she was a girl, and subsequently had no real claim to the iron throne in the eyes of many, she was allowed to live.

and so she has, all these years, all the way south in king's landing. nobody really knows much about her; the king keeps an extremely close eye on her, and although she makes public appearances, these only exist as a means to flaunt robert's power and remind the people of westeros that the all that remains of the targaryen dynasty is a young, scared little girl, timid and powerless and, above all, conquered.

and as the years pass and sansa grows up, she grows more and more curious about the targaryen girl. she knows she shouldn't be, knows that the dragon princess is the enemy. but she can't help it. the stories that surround the girl are fascinating, and sansa finds herself searching for scraps of information about her wherever she can.

"she's a right brat, from what i've heard," theon tells her. "an enemy and a brat who thinks she should be queen. i don't know why the king keeps her alive, to be honest."

her brother rob is more kind. "you shouldn't wonder, sister," she says. but sansa presses him, and he eventually acquiesces, telling her, "all i know is that she's supposedly very beautiful."

which isn't surprising to sansa, really, but she can't help but feel a little jealous, and wonders who is more beautiful - the targaryen girl, or her? sansa's been told how pretty she is for as long as she can remember, and the idea of some traitor princess being superior puts her teeth on edge.

she tells this to her mother, who simply rolls her eyes and smooths a hand over sansa's thick, auburn hair. "don't be silly, sansa," she says. "you're a unique, northern beauty and you shouldn't worry over the looks of a girl who lives a thousand leagues away."

she knows her mother is right, and as she grows older and is showered with compliments from people fawning over her beauty, the jealousy fades from her mind.

but the curiosity? she'll deny it out loud, but it remains inside her mind - a pesky little thing, really, that leaps out and nags at her every so often.

and one day, when she is sixteen, she learns that she'll be going south with her lord father and her sister arya. and that day, the curiosity returns in full force.

because the south holds not only beauty and wonder and princes and graceful ladies - it holds a prisoner. a prisoner sansa has wondered about ever since she'd heard the young girl's name.

 _daenerys._

 **thoughts, perhaps? thanks for reading!**


End file.
